Page 15 of Phoenix Fated (The Phoenix Guardians #4)

JACKSON

T hey want him in Al'Phaer.

They want him in Al'Phaer.

They want him in Al'Phaer.

A voice repeats in my head like a warning alarm, inescapable, firing at me at every turn. I'm frozen stiff, trapped and unable to move, and though I know this is a dream I can't force myself awake.

I'd seen this exact same thing last night while unconscious.

For a moment, I see an ocean and shoreline.

The world around me is so big. Everything changes.

I'm hiding inside a dark space, a cave, or a hollow in a tree.

Somewhere only a child could fit. I am a child.

Then I see two men approaching, silhouetted in shadow, with a group following behind them.

I recognize them—or at least the me in the dream recognizes them, and a space that once had been filled with love for these people is filled with a terrible, all encompassing, inescapable fear.

Now I'm running. I know they're coming after me, but I can't let them catch me. I won't go with them.

Why are they doing this?!

The world blurs past me as I speed down the rocky mountain trail, hot tears streaking my face.

Why?! Why?! Why?!

I scream the question in my head.

Why did I have to be born like this? I didn't ask to be a Phoenikos!!

Then, I wake up.

There’s a blanket draped over me. I’m lying on my side with my knees squeezed against my belly, and my body is trembling from both cold and the feelings still lingering from my bizarre nightmare.

I guess I should be thankful for a break from my usual fucked up recurring dreams, but what the hell ? It was like being in someone else’s head. None of it belonged to me, and yet it all felt so familiar. Maybe I’m going crazy. This world is making me crazy after all.

I roll over. The tent is filled with cool dawn light, and Airos is gone from the carpet bed. Do I just shimmy over there and thaw myself out?

No. Fuck that. I’ve made my bed and I’m gonna lie in it, even if it means freezing my ass off.

I grab the blanket and move to fling it off, but I'm stopped by a startling scent drifting off the scratchy wool threads.

His scent.

I pull the lip of the blanket up closer to my face and draw in a hesitant breath.

Jesus...

My head is swimming, like I've just taken a hit of the world's most potent drug.

It's intoxicating in a way that makes my throat go dry and my stomach tighten.

I should be disgusted. We've been out in the desert without a shower for almost two days now.

But this raw scent has me by the throat.

And I find myself taking another deep breath, letting it fill my lungs completely.

What the actual fuck is happening to me? It's like some primal part of my brain has decided to override every other function. My fingers curl into the fabric, gripping it tight as I force myself to pull it away.

I sit up. Everything is sore, especially my thighs and ass from the gryph ride across the desert. I'm going to be covered in one giant bruise, if I'm not careful about it.

Suddenly, the tent flap pulls back and Airos peers inside. My first reaction is to throw the blanket aside, even though I've stopped sniffing it like a fucking pervert.

"How do you feel?" he asks.

"Like I've been stuck in a washing machine on max spin cycle."

"Not a good thing, I take it?"

"Not unless you like being tenderized. But it's nothing new for me. I haven't had a good night's sleep in a long ass time." I stand and stretch my stiff muscles. "You look like shit, too."

"It takes a great deal to recover phoenix energy," he says with a tired smile. "Come on. We have work to do."

I leave the tent, and we walk through the camp together.

Almost immediately, a group of curious children follows behind us like a parade of ants.

Airos pauses dramatically, and with a flourish of his hand, he conjures a waterfall of green sparks that bounce across the sand around their feet like hopping crickets.

The kids run around in circles, stomping at the sparks, shrieking and laughing.

"You like kids?" I ask.

"Of course. Do people in your world not like children?"

"Some don't. I guess what I meant was, do you want kids? In my world, some people don't."

"The gay clan? The men who cannot bear children?" he asks.

The question catches me so off guard I almost choke on my own breath.

"What? No. It's a simple question, Airos.

I've never wanted kids. I was one hundred percent sure I'd never have them.

" Then I quickly add, "Because I'd be a shit dad.

And the world doesn't need any more shit dads.

But I guess it doesn't matter what I think; this is happening whether I want it or not. "

Airos is silent with thought. The kids trailing behind and waiting for him to do something else begin to lose interest and flit away.

"If you're destined to have a child, then you will. Desire is independent from fate. If the Gods deem it my destiny, then I'll have to accept it, regardless of what I want."

"Kinda sounds like you don't want kids," I observe.

"It's a dark world, Jackson, especially for our kind. None should have to suffer the way we do." Then he grins at me. "It's a challenge enough to keep you alive."

"Glad I could make your life difficult," I say.

The daylight has brought a different atmosphere to the encampment, and I now can clearly see the predicament these people are in.

My army training has sharpened my eyes to certain signs of trouble, to spot the differences between normal poverty and a crisis point.

I get the sense that these people, normally nomadic and on the move, have stayed in this location for much longer than it can sustain them.

I notice how the water is being distributed—carefully measured rations poured into smaller vessels rather than freely shared.

One omega is washing a child's face with just droplets from his fingertips rather than a cloth.

And at the edge of the camp are several unmistakable grave mounds.

I suddenly feel even shittier about last night. They shouldn't have sacrificed so much of their resources just for us. Just because they believe we're somehow going to save them.

Airos seems to read my thoughts. "Our coming brought these people hope. To not partake in what they offered would've spoiled that morale, and been taken as a bad omen."

"Yeah, but Jesus, they even feed the gryphs better than they do themselves. These people aren’t just stuck here, they’re dying here.

See those?" I gesture subtly toward the edge of camp. “Those graves are fresh, but the mounds are small. They’re conserving energy by not digging deep. And see how they’re placed?

In a line rather than the usual circular pattern I noticed at other sites we passed. They’re expecting more."

"Yes... I surveyed the camp this morning and tried to gather more information about what we're up against."

"And?"

"These Shimat sound like they may be a type of elemental, specifically a water elemental.

I've encountered variants of them before.

Wind elementals are common in the skies north of Athenos.

They're capricious and fickle creatures, and that's on a good day.

If the Shimat have been soured by Umbrios, then it's no wonder they're wreaking havoc.

And if we're to find them, we need a shaman.

Apparently, they're the only ones who the Shimat will interact with.

"Wait, you think what's happening here is related to our business?"

"Yes," he says.

"That's a pretty huge coincidence."

"Umbrios and Aethereos are the lords of light and dark, of death and rebirth. Their cycle exerts influence over every part of this realm. When Lord Aethereos was exiled to your world centuries ago, the balance shifted towards the rebirth of his twin."

"So you're telling me that every bad thing happening in Circeana is because of Umbrios?"

"No, not everything. But as Umbrios gains more power, the world grows darker as a natural response to his presence.

Ancient and forgotten monsters creep out from where they've long been dormant.

There will always be dark and light, but the scales can be dramatically offset.

And because Lord Aethereos was overcome in your world?—"

"Things are gonna get even more fucked," I finish. "Awesome. So how does Umbrios get reborn?"

"I wish I could tell you. Much of this I've only learned recently. So much of our lore has been lost. Alyx was attempting to track down more knowledge, but I don't know whether he's even still alive."

Right, Alyx. The mysterious third alpha, the guy who lives as a cat.

"And if we can't stop this whole cycle from happening... What then? The end of the world?"

"It will certainly become a place where light and love only exist as mild whispers beneath an overwhelming thunderstorm of darkness and suffering."

"Sounds a hell of a lot like my life back home," I say.

“Then I’m very happy you’re here,” he replies with a smile so genuine it speeds up my pulse, making me want to punch something—preferably myself.

Goddammit.

The walls of Niah's tent are pulled up, turning the structure into a canopy.

Two gryphs lay in the shade nearby, preening and nuzzling each other as they wait for their riders.

Inside, Azin and another man, an omega, are sitting and speaking to Niah.

As Airos and I approach, she gestures for us to come and join them.

Both Azin and the other man are dressed in matching burgundy cloaks ornately stitched with hundreds of translucent aqua beads made of some kind of crystal or glass, and their faces are painted with fine linework, like a henna tattoo. It feels like we've just walked in on a wedding ceremony.

Azin's eyes light up when he sees us coming, and he hurries over to us, chattering and gesturing like an overly excited orchestra conductor. Then he throws his arms around our shoulders and walks us into the tent. The omega drops to his knees and bows his head to the floor as we approach.

"Uhh, hey?" I say.

"I think that's his mate," Airos says.

"This is Onar, the omega of Azin," Niah says. "Together, they are shaman."

Onar gets to his feet and Azin moves to stand with him, his gregarious demeanor suddenly becoming serious, almost solemn.

They link arms, clasp hands, and touch their foreheads with two fingers of their free hand, then bow to us, all in one completely synchronized movement.

The words they speak are also in perfect unison, almost like a chant.

"They say they are honored to bring the Shalkek before the Shimat," Niah translates.

The two gryphs are saddled and readied with water and supplies.

"Any chance we can get an extra one of these guys?" I ask.

"For what purpose?" Niah asks.

"Well, it'd make the ride a little easier, not having to share. I'm probably extra heavy, you know? I think he'd appreciate it, right boy?" I pat the gryph's haunch and it nuzzles my hand with its beak.

"They are strong," says Niah. "They can carry many times their weight. Do not be concerned."

Azin and Onar have already climbed on top of their ride, with Onar seated in the front between Azin's protective thighs.

Azin whistles a short command, and the gryph chirps in response, rising to its full height with a graceful motion.

The creature shakes its magnificent head, rustling its neck feathers to dislodge the clinging sand, its golden eyes alert and ready for the journey ahead.

Airos climbs into the saddle. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Jackson," he says. "Besides, do you really want them to give up more of their precious water just because it excites you too much to ride with me?"

"The fuck? That is not it, bro. Not it at all."

"Okay." He gestures to the open space in front of him.

Son of a bitch. Why would he even say that?

I grab hold of the saddle and haul myself up into place between his legs. I can feel the shape of his body against my back and my ass.

Shit.

But riding behind him again is out of the question.

I'm still sore from being smashed against him like a drunk stripper on a telephone pole.

I try to inch myself forward as much as I can to get some space between us, but the gryph's powerful haunches flex beneath me as it rises, and despite my efforts to latch on tight with my knees, gravity betrays me and throws me back against his chest. I quickly grab the reins before he can reach around me to take them.

"I've got it," I say.

"Go ahead," he replies.

Niah is watching all of this go down with an unreadable expression on her face. It doesn't matter what she's thinking, I'm feeling judged. It's wild that I can go head first into a firefight without flinching, and yet this shit is what always gets my flight response going.

Every. Single. Time.

And if it wasn't for the baby inside of me, I probably would throw myself right out of this saddle.

Airos is almost right on the money, and I hate that he can see it. It's not that I am excited by riding with him. I'm afraid of the possibility that I could be.

Then, Azin whistles again and our gryph responds, falling in behind them. Holding the reins is useless—we're just in for the ride here—but I keep them tightly gripped in my hands. I'm not willing to give up control, even if it's just the illusion of it.